


Module: PΣRSΘNΛ

by Hyliare



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (Temporarily) Human Zenyatta, Existential Angst, Gay Robots, Gen, Genyatta - Freeform, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mild Language, Non-Sexual Eating, Omnic Racism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Disability, Pre-Slash, Rating May Change, Science Experiments, Secret Crush, Slow Burn, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyliare/pseuds/Hyliare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If this program works to disguise an omnic, it’ll work on anyone. The transformation should be complete, every sense altered…” Spying the rapidly-increasing angle of Genji’s head to his neck, Winston smiled. “Altered temporarily, of course. Ideally, the Persona Module will be used for reconnaissance missions lasting no longer than 72 hours. For now, we’re testing it with the aim of between 30 and 180 minutes of transfiguration.”</p>
<p>Genji huffed, he couldn’t help it. He huffed, and then he looked toward Winston with obvious displeasure, despite his un-emotive faceplate. “How is it meant to work?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Module

Watchpoint: Gibraltar was…small. That was the word that kept returning to Genji’s mind between missions. After living in the mountains of Nepal, watching the sun rise and set over staggering peaks and spill its rays down into steep valleys, the base near the ocean was _small_ , just like the peninsula on which it sat. The room where they took their meals was cramped, the weapon ranges were short, the dormitories were diminutive. Furthermore, his and Zenyatta’s attempts to meditate were constantly interrupted by people “just passing through.” They’d been using the roof until its access had been banned by team consensus—too visible, too dangerous. His master had merely shrugged and suggested a rotating schedule of side rooms. Personally, Genji saw no issue with using one of their dorms, small though they were, but Zenyatta seemed reluctant. His excuse, if Genji dared call it that, was that meditating in public spaces would encourage others to join them.

Genji had to agree that there were a number of other agents who would benefit, if they gave it a chance. But as of yet, no one had.

The very smallest places in all of the small Watchpoint were the hangar rooms that Winston had, over the years, slowly repurposed as miniature laboratories. Each one was specialized to its own brand of experiment. Currently, Genji was stood in the lab designated for the development of tech for covert operations. It was a tight fit for Winston alone—when one added a cyborg and an omnic who was constantly seated in the lotus position (three feet in the air), it was claustrophobic. Genji was actually thankful for once that their oxygen utilization was below average.

Winston was perched in an office chair that looked comically-undersized beneath him, holding a tablet.

“If this program works to disguise an omnic, it’ll work on anyone. The transformation should be complete, every sense altered…” Spying the rapidly-increasing angle of Genji’s head to his neck, Winston smiled. “Altered _temporarily_ , of course. Ideally, the Persona Module will be used for reconnaissance missions lasting no longer than 72 hours. For now, we’re testing it with the aim of between 30 and 180 minutes of transfiguration.”

“You’ve used it on something living before?”

The smile disappeared, but before Winston could answer, slender metal fingers landed on Genji’s shoulder.

“I appreciate your worry, my student, but you need not. If this test is successful, Mr. Winston will next test it on a small mouse.”

“So it _hasn’t_ —”

“—I did request to undergo its effects _first_ , Genji, so that if there are adjustments to be made, the mouse will be spared unpleasantness.”

“There is no guarantee that your sacrifice will make any change relevant to the next test, Master.”

“ _Sacrifice?_ That seems a rather strong word. It is only a few hours of my time.”

Genji huffed, he couldn’t help it. He huffed, and then he looked toward Winston with obvious displeasure, despite his un-emotive faceplate. “How is it meant to work?” Zenyatta’s hand remained in place on his shoulder.

“Well,” Winston pushed his glasses up with a knuckle, his smile creeping slowly back into place, “in theory, the module uses a combination of hard light and silicone- and protein-generating gas emissions to build up a false form for the agent, and advanced camouflage to hide outlying parts. It then uses some simple nanites to help the agent believe in their new form, so there’s less awkward movement. Their senses will be fully integrated. That’s the gist of it.”

“You’re going to put _nanites_ into him?”

“Only temporarily! They’re self-limiting. They’ll decompose in under 24 hours, you have my word.”

Genji ducked his chin, crossed his arms, and turned his head toward Zenyatta’s hand. It pulled away an inch, remained hovering. “And you trust him?”

“Yes. I greatly respect Mr. Winston for his intelligence, and his dedication to his craft.”

“Really, just ‘Winston’ is fine, Master Zenyatta.”

“Then just ‘Zenyatta’ must be fine as well. I am no master of yours. After all, you are not a member of the Shambali order…Unless you are quite a recent convert?” The hand disappeared from Genji’s peripheral vision.

Winston’s deep laugh echoed in the small lab. “I concede. Just Zenyatta, then. Thank you for agreeing to assist me. And Genji, thank you for agreeing to supervise.”

His grip tightened near his elbows. “Of course, Winston.”

He was fixed, for a moment, in the ape’s gaze, too sharp and too bright, but Winston said nothing else. Instead, he turned to his puzzlement of LED panels and addressed Athena. As he spoke he tapped the screen of his tablet.

“Everything’s as ready as it can be. Run the program, passcode ‘P-sigma-R-S-theta-N-lambda.’”

Genji might have rolled his eyes. He might not have. It couldn’t be proven. He took a step back to be out of the way (or as out of the way as was possible in such a small room) and watched his friend and master float into what looked like a giant pneumatic tube. Zenyatta uncrossed his legs and let his feet touch down near-silently, one after the other. Almost as an afterthought, he sent his orbs out with a flick of his wrist.

“And…initiate.”

Genji’s back jerked straight as the tube in which Zenyatta stood closed with a _snap_. The door was unpolished metal, sealed tight and unquestionably opaque. There was a hissing noise, and quiet static. Softly, enough that Genji wondered whether he’d imagined it, came Zenyatta’s calm voice: “ _Oh_.”

It didn’t end. The hissing continued, rising and falling in intensity, sometimes overcoming the static, sometimes being overcome.

“Is it meant to take so long?”

“It’s building a body…Takes humans nine months just for a little one.”

“Winston!”

“Just be patient, Genji.”

The seconds dragged on into minutes. Shifting bars danced on the tablet in Winston’s hand, nonsensical.

“…Have you ever wondered?”

Genji looked up from the small screen. “Have I…?”

Winston’s chair spun with a quiet squeak, angling away from the noisy tube for a moment. He leveled his eyes at Genji instead.

“Have you wondered what he would look like, if he were a human instead of an omnic?”

“…No.”

Of course he hadn’t. Of course not.

“No, because Master Zenyatta is _not_ a human. He _is_ an omnic, and he…That’s what he is. He is at peace.”

There was a conversation the two of them had had, once, not long before the recall. They had been in one of the villages that surrounded the temple, helping erect a home for a pair of newlyweds leaving their parents’ nests. Afterward, after they had been offered a place at the dinner table and had politely declined, they’d started the long walk back to Zenyatta’s (and, for the time, his) home. It had been Zenyatta who had broached the subject. He’d said:

“I must confess that I envy you, Genji.”

Genji himself remembered balking, then being horribly confused. It had been apropos of nothing, or so he’d thought.

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

“I envy some of your…abilities. Your senses. Your memories.”

“Master?”

“You relinquished your seat at the villagers’ table in deference to me, but you do possess the ability to eat, do you not?”

“I…yes, Master, but it’s not—”

“Please, allow me to finish.”

“…Yes. Apologies.”

Zenyatta turned his head to scan the mountain peaks, tracking an eagle. “Food and drink are such a large part of human culture. I envy you, because it is not something I was made to experience. I feel as though we omnics are missing out on a possible cultural exchange, one of great merit. But more sharply, the envy is personal. I cannot deny that _I_ wish to experience these things. The stories you’ve told me, the things you’ve described…I _miss_ them, and yet I’ve nothing to miss.”

His shoulders sloped, metal spine falling from its usual rigid-but-relaxed posture.

“I have read that there are some omnic bodies created with the ability to ingest certain foodstuffs, but that the senses involved in _taste_ are so complex, the technology to replicate it has not yet been perfected. I do not know if my own body could receive those sorts of upgrades…and further, I fear that even my entertainment of the idea might be a symptom of an inner turmoil. I believed I was at peace with myself, Genji. At peace with my place in the world, with who, and _what_ , I am. Now, I fear that could be false.”

Genji watched the eagle soar low. “Master…You have told me before, peace is a journey. Even if it _is_ false, why must that be a reason to fear? And I certainly don’t believe it to be any sort of moral failing, to wish to have new experiences.”

It was a long time until Zenyatta replied.

“You’ve learned well, my student. You have become so wise.”

His face felt hot beneath his visor, his ears prickling. The cold ground crunched beneath his feet as he strode forward and overtook Zenyatta’s leisurely drift—he was hiding, somewhat ineffectively. His master hummed behind him, a reverberating sound that straddled the line of contemplative human and whirring machine, yet perfectly encapsulated Zenyatta’s brand of deep calm. It trailed off into the wind.

“I suppose it may be a passing fancy. It may not be. Thank you for listening, Genji.”

“Any time, master. It’s…I am honored that you would share your troubles with me.”

“Then I will not hesitate to share them again, if the need arises.”

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

“Genji?”

The memory was ripped away, leaving the cramped lab room in its place. Winston’s brow was slightly furrowed. “Genji, it was only a question. I was just curious…It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I’ve had those thoughts myself.”

Genji looked up, taking in the scientist’s thick black hair, his hulking form and leathery hands. Winston _wasn’t_ human. What a thing to forget. He was almost Zenyatta’s opposite, overly-organic where the monk was barren, too emotional instead of too meditative. “Ah…That…Yes, that is not surprising.”

Winston sat back, his chair creaking again. “The disguise I chose uses the DNA of a man from Bhutan. It was the closest to Nepal that we had on file. He’s older than Zenyatta, but I don’t think that will be an issue.”

“No.” Genji regularly forgot that his master had been a _teenager_ when they’d first met. In his defense, when one started their life fully developed, he imagined age held a different meaning.

“You know, it wasn’t _all_ about the mouse. He wanted to keep me from using it on myself first, too. I was almost offended.”

“…Well, Master Zenyatta is very against animal testing.”

Winston’s laugh filled the room again, but this time part of Genji’s nerves had abated. His arms uncrossed and he even managed a small hidden smile. He might sometimes overlook Winston’s genetics, but it was stupid to overlook his brilliance, or to forget their friendship’s history. Perhaps it had been stupid, too, to doubt—

The hissing stopped abruptly and Athena blinked across Winston’s screen to announce the completion of the program. Genji’s artificial heart found its way to his throat.

The doors slid open. Suddenly, the room felt immense. The few feet between Genji and the quieting tube felt insurmountable. One of his feet stuttered forward.

“…Genji?”

He crossed the remaining space just in time to catch the figure stumbling out of the machine. The man. The _human_ man. The man— _Zenyatta_ , Genji reminded himself—was a heavy weight in his arms, grabbing at his shoulders and chest while feet wobbled bonelessly back and forth. It was a man in Zenyatta’s clothing. _It was Zenyatta_. Winston stood from his chair, jaw hanging down.

“That’s incredible…”

“Master? Are you all right?”

The stranger, his _friend_ , raised his head, and Genji crumbled.

Staring into those kind eyes, there was no question.

A brown face looked up at him, sharp-chinned, with strong cheek bones and stark temples. His head was shorn. And his _eyes_. They were dark, nearly black, but there was a light behind them. Literally. They were backlit with a subtle cyan glow. They blinked.

“Genji, I cannot move my legs.” And then he _smiled_.

“…You _what_ —”

“What? You can’t?” Winston scrambled out of his chair, the thing rolling out from underneath him in what little space it had to roll. He reached to put a hand on Zenyatta’s back and Genji automatically turned away, gathering his master into his arms bridal-style (it was the most convenient hold, it was muscle memory). Winston still made contact, but his palm landed on a shoulder instead. Genji got a _look_. “Can you feel them at all? Tingling? Can you feel anything, period?”

Zenyatta _hummed_. It rumbled against Genji’s chest. “I can feel _many_ things. It is…somewhat overwhelming. I feel very warm. I can move my arms…my hands and fingers…my head…” He catalogued limbs one by one, wiggling them. Genji felt every move. “Breathing feels very odd. But, no, Winston, I cannot feel my legs or feet or toes at all.”

“That…Hrm.” Winston returned to the desk to grab his abandoned tablet and jabbed at the screen a few times. “…Oh.”

Genji’s head snapped over. “ _Oh?_ ”

“It’s, uh, ‘it’s not a bug, it’s a feature’? Turns out Mr. Ugyen was a paraplegic.”

“Oh!” Zenyatta had settled comfortably into his new (temporary) lot in life, arms looped around Genji’s neck.

“But you can’t deny this is a success! Wow! How does it feel to hold him, Genji?”

His vents came dangerously close to steaming before Winston continued, “Does he seem like the right weight? Temperature?”

“I cannot detect any jarring irregularities.”

“Incredible. This is better than I ever could have hoped for a first trial! Beside the new senses, do you feel…relatively normal, Zenyatta?”

“No. No, definitely not. There is something wrong with my throat, I think. And I feel very…light. And perhaps a bit of pain? It’s not a pain I’ve felt before.”

Winston was taking notes. “That might be related to his injury. When you say you feel _light_ …?” As he waited for clarification he tugged at one of the hems of Zenyatta’s pant legs, lifting it a few inches to reveal a bony knee.

“It feels as though I might float away…Only, not like I usually do.”              

The pants were dropped. “Hm. Well, let’s get you down to Medical for an examination.”

Genji straightened up as Zenyatta nodded. He made to move them toward the door.

“You’ve informed Angela already?”

“Not…exactly. I’ll send her a message now. Are you going to carry him, Genji?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Student!”

“You’re welcome, Master!”

Zenyatta had spoken in sing-song, and Genji had responded in kind before he realized it. He looked pointedly away from Winston as they exited the lab.

“ _Thank_ you. Thank _you_. Th- _ank_ you. What an interesting variety I can produce. Has this changed something internally, Winston?”

“It shouldn’t have. I would assume it has to do with the mouth that was been built. The oral cavity is part of the sound filtering system that shapes individual voices. You’re still speaking with your own voice, but now the cheeks, teeth, and tongue are all affecting the sound waves.”

“Fascinating. Genji, do you think I could sound angry now? Winston, Genji has always insisted that I never sound angry, merely…What is the word you use? _Inconvenienced_.”

“I do not know, Master, but I think you should wait to practice.”

“Oop! ‘Scuse me, there, Winston. Hey, Gen—ji? Who’s this? And…how come he’s in your good friend Zenyatta’s trousers?”

Watchpoint: Gibraltar was small. It was a pipedream to think they could walk from Winston’s lab to Angela’s without encountering a single other agent. Lena was grinning, sweat on her brow and boxing gloves hung around her neck.

Genji sighed, Winston smiled, and Zenyatta spoke before either of them had the chance.

“Miss Oxton! I am in Genji’s good friend’s Zenyatta’s trousers because I _am_ Genji’s good friend Zenyatta. Winston has programmed something very impressive.”

“…Eh? Is that right? Winston?”

“It’s a disguise module. I call it _Persona_. Zenyatta offered to be the first test subject…and we don’t know how long it will last, so we’re going down to Medical, for an examination.” He advanced through the hallway as he spoke, gently ushering Lena to the side. “No big hiccups so far, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“No hiccups? Why’s he not walking?”

Genji got a word in:

“Winston has disguised Master Zenyatta as a man with paraplegia. The module is very thorough.”

“Ah. So, it’s not a—”

“—bug, it’s a feature. Yes. Thank you for being so understanding, now _excuse_ us, Tracer.”

“Yeah, yeah…Good luck! And, uh, looking good, Zenyatta!”

“ _Thank_ you!”

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

There was a bed waiting for them when they arrived, with a thick curtain around it. Genji laid Zenyatta carefully down and the monk immediately took to stroking his hands over the water-resistant sheets and crinkly pillow. Even through a dramatic curtain-pulling, he persisted. Dr. Ziegler had to clear her throat. “Uhm, Mr. Tekhartha?” Nothing. “…Zenyatta?”

“Hm? Ah. Hello, doctor. This is a very interesting texture.”

She looked askance at Winston, who grinned. “Nanites?” The grin got slightly dimmer.

“The nanites are programmed only to adjust the inputs and outputs of the sensory neural network. It’s _possible_ they’re affecting sensitivity to some extent, but the change in charge and intensity from the translation of persona-to-person should be minimal.”

“ _Should_ be.”

“Angela, _please_. It’s science. Experimentation is necessary!”

“So is _planning_ , Winston. You should have informed me sooner, and given me time to prepare. We could have used Torbjörn’s assistance with this!”

“I’ll message him—”

“He’s _busy_.”

“Well, I…It…It’s covert operations!”

“It is not ‘covert’ to your _own_ team.”

“Do you think they have forgotten our presence?”

“Yes, Master, I do.”

Angela actually _squeaked_ , straightening her lab coat and hair. “No! No, I…we did _not_. It’s…Winston. _Later_.”

“Yes, later. We have a window of time that is shrinking.”

“I am pleased that you have grown so comfortable around me that even with my current appearance of a stranger, you act without self-consciousness.”

Two pairs of visible lips pursed, and the third just smiled wider. The hidden pair followed suit.

Winston readied his tablet as Angela wheeled her equipment table closer. “Let’s begin with vital signs. You know they’re falsified, obviously, but I want to know whether you think you’d notice that if you _didn’t_ know.”

“Obviously,” Angela repeated without mirth, lifting one of Zenyatta’s wrists. She flexed it in her hand before settling into position to count his pulse. “Sixty. Remarkably life-like.” She listened to his breathing, took his temperature orally, and then reached for an otoscope. “Where exactly does it end, Winston? There must be some inner barrier, but his throat was very convincing.” After a quick look in each ear, she sat back and nodded, “and the cones of light are present, in the correct positions. His eyes seem to be the only curious detail.”

“Well, the layers only go as deep as they need to, to achieve a match of the body scan paired with the DNA used. Ostensibly.”

“Which means you don’t know.”

“Which means we can _find out!_ How about a CT scan? Zenyatta?”

“Whatever you think is best, Winston.”

“Great. Time is of the essence. Angie?”

She sighed, but nodded. After placing the otoscope back on her tray of instruments, she picked up an oblong sphere and pressed a few small buttons. “I suggest we move behind the curtain…Genji, you too.” The device buzzed lazily into the air, expanding into a wide circle with a quiet whirring noise. A section of it opened and enveloped the bed, coming to rest floating around Zenyatta in a way reminiscent of his orbs (which were all hanging out politely around the bed’s supports).

Genji was standing near Zenyatta’s pillow, arms crossed loose. He had watched every move during the physical. At that point, though, he was staring at the miniature CT scanner. It was a remarkable device, really. Angela had once described to him the decades-long process of packing the technology into smaller and smaller spaces. And after all that progress, there it was. Some floating onion ring that was going to let them look _inside_ Zenyatta. It felt crushingly intimate.

“Genji?”

Zenyatta was looking back at him, over a bare, bony shoulder. “Don’t you want to see?”

“I…”

“Don’t worry, Genji. I am not scared. This has already been such an interesting experience…and now, I get to have a CT scan! I wonder…” Zenyatta’s cool eyes flickered toward the curtain, where Winston and Angela had already shielded themselves, voice low. “I wonder if…perhaps…I might be able to eat or drink something? If the module created… ‘taste buds’?”

“…There would be nowhere for the food to go, Master.”

“Well, vomiting would be a new experience as well.”

“I’m not sure that—”

“Genji? We’d like to start. It’s been nearly an hour, and we don’t know—”

“Ah, yes, Winston! Sorry. Sorry, Master.”

“Not at all.” Zenyatta carefully laid himself flat, raising a calm hand as Genji slipped out and closed the curtain tight behind him. Winston’s tablet sat in Angela’s hands, displaying a black screen with a purple display. She pressed the corner of it, and it beeped. The modern scanner was small, but it was still _loud_. The inner workings began to move, to spin, building into a mechanical rumble. Genji stepped so he could peer at the screen. Images began to appear.

“ _Oh_.”

Genji was getting very tired of that word.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“That…can’t be right. Winston?”

“It might be the nanites? I suppose it’s not impossible for them to spoof…”

“What’s going on?” Genji clapped a hand on each of their shoulders, tone suddenly stern. “ _Tell_ me.”

“Ah! Sorry, Genji. Sorry. It’s—Look, here.” Angela’s fingers dragged over the tablet screen, making the image shift between the many captured layers.

“…A brain?”

“Yes. And more.” She tapped around. “Lungs, heart, stomach, _viscera_. It must be some trick.”

“I wouldn’t call nanites a _trick_ , Angie.”

“What about his eyes?”

The pale fingers paused, hanging for a moment above the still frame of a heart. They sprang back into action. The brain re-appeared, sliced through quickly, until two bright circles swelled into existence.

“…They look normal. Nothing to explain the color.”

“So, it’s probably a spoof. The nanites must be projecting the image somehow, or intercepting the signal and replacing it.”

Genji took a small step back as Angela’s expression darkened. “The nanites. The nanites you said _only_ affected the _sensory_ network.”

Winston seemed to shrink.

“Do _not_ put things _into_ my agents when you _don’t. Know. What. They. Do!_ ” The shrinking continued with every word, Winston folding in on himself in a way that might have been impressive if it weren’t so pathetic. Angela stood bent over him, eyes fierce, cheeks red. “You’d better _hope_ it’s an internal projection! I will not have you filling that poor omnic’s head with things that can _hack signals_. How monstrous!” Winston flinched heavily at that, but had no retort. The machine was still chugging away behind them, doing the only job it knew how.

Angie sighed, roughly tucking a fallen piece of hair back behind her ear as she righted herself. “Honestly…We’ll be having a very long talk later, about ethics in experimentation with living subjects.”

“…Yes, Dr. Ziegler.”

“Angela?”

“I’m _so_ sorry, Genji. You should not have to be in the middle of this.”

“Angela, about Master Zenyatta.”

“Oh, of course!” She pressed the corner of the tablet again and handed it back to Winston (it took him several seconds before he reached for it). The industrial roar began to die down. “We can put this to rest with a small needle stick, to imitate a blood draw. It won’t hurt him.”

“R-right. But, what if the nanites are…hacking?”

Winston took a steadying breath and brushed himself off. “Don’t worry, they aren’t. As I said before, they’re self-limiting. They don’t have networking capabilities; their information is self-contained. It was just an _idea_ , and not one with merit. Producing electrical impulses to interfere with the x-ray detectors? Much more likely. I just wonder how that _felt_.”

Genji moved ahead to part the curtains, taking in Zenyatta’s prone form. The man was laying as they’d left him, legs positioned straight, arms at his sides. He had a peaceful look on his face, with closed eyes. It struck Genji as deathly.

“Master Zenyatta?”

The eyes opened, staring at the ceiling. Then, at Genji. “Ah, is it over? Did you find anything interesting?”

Winston pushed the curtain further to the side. “The nanites made your insides look human on the scan, so Angie’s going to poke you with a needle.”

“…Is what we _think_ is happening, so…yes, I am going to poke you with a needle. Is that all right?”

“Perfectly. I have always been curious about acupuncture.”

After what seemed like a year of nervous grimacing, Genji smiled. A laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it. “ _Master_ …She’ll be using a syringe. Acupuncture needles are solid.”

“Are they really? I never knew. Well, I’m sure it’s close enough.”

“Haha!”

Even Angela’s face had softened, though there was still a hard edge of anger beneath the surface. She left briefly to visit the handwashing station, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves when she returned. She selected a needle from one of the drawers in the equipment cart and opened it. “You will feel only a slight pinch, if you feel it at all. May I have your arm, please?”

Zenyatta offered it. The veins ran close to the surface—or appeared to. Genji watched as Angela traced one down to the crook of his master’s elbow and swiped it with an iodine complex. Unnecessary, but he supposed she liked to stay in the habit. Then she lined up the needle and slid it deftly into the fake vein.

Genji saw red.

No, really. There was red.

“What?” “ _Hä?_ ” “Uh?” “Hm?”

“That’s not…That shouldn’t be…Poke him somewhere else!”

“Winston! I will _not_ stab someone ‘for science.’”

“Is this not a part of my disguise?”

“It’s not _meant_ to be! We should take a sample. Cross-check it against Mr. Ugyen’s DNA. Maybe the module is just an even better design than I thought it was!”

“Winston. How often, in your research career, have things _ever_ been better-designed than you thought they were?”

“…Once?”

“Do not count this.”

Genji stepped forward between them, separating Angela bodily from Zenyatta and taking the hand of the arm that had been stuck. “How are you feeling?”

“The pain from before remains…and the room has been spinning.”

“Spinning? For how long?”

“Since I opened my eyes. I think I might close them again, Genji. It is very unpleasant.”

“You should close them.” He slowly slid his arm around Zenyatta’s shoulders, coaxing the man to lie against his chest. The weight was comforting. Then it suddenly increased. “Angela?”

“Yes, Genji?”

“Zenyatta has fainted.”

 


	2. The Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one got a little bit sad.

Genji spent the next twenty minutes sitting on a rolling stool at his master’s bedside. Angela and Winston were a whirlwind around them. First, Winston had orchestrated a move to a full-sized bed while Angela drew a vial of blood. Then they’d bustled around for several minutes setting up monitors and doing tests, Winston poking around at Zenyatta’s feet. And finally, Angela had returned to place an IV. She took a deep breath after the cannula was in position.

“So, what we know so far: For all intents and purposes, it appears Zenyatta _is_ human. We can find no trace of his metal body beneath the disguise. Winston and Athena are trying to discover where it _went_.” She paused, opening the drip. “As for the fainting spell, it appears to have been caused by dehydration. This will give him fluids and a bit of nutrition. Has he regained consciousness?”

“Ah. He hasn’t opened his eyes, but yes. He is sleeping now.”

“Good.” The room was quiet but for the light snap of Angela removing her gloves. “…I’m sorry about this, Genji. Please, don’t be too harsh with Winston.”

“I will not. Master Zenyatta will not want that. Has he said anything about what to expect when the disguise…wears off? He said it would be only three hours.”

“I think that’s…maybe been revised. I’d like Zenyatta to stay here, under my observation. Is that all right?”

Genji looked at her, looked at the cannula and the liquid in the tube, then down at Zenyatta’s placid face. “…No. It will be my master’s choice, of course, but I think he will agree with me. He will want to experience things outside of this bed. The base is small, Angela. Even if we go to the opposite corner, he will not be far from your care. I see no reason to confine him.”

Dr. Angelia Ziegler had the look of someone who had just confidently taken a bite out of their least favorite food to please the host of a dinner party. She was not used to being told “no,” but she was also endlessly polite. Conflict. “But, Genji, to be the most _safe_ …”

“Life is not all about safety, Angela.”

A tiny squeak, from a tightly-closed mouth. Genji wasn’t sure he would have heard it with his original ears. She smiled. “That’s…true. It _is_ Zenyatta’s decision, though, so I suppose we’ll see what he thinks.”

Her light eyes turned to the bed, like Zenyatta might wake up on cue. He did not. After a few fruitless seconds, she looked back to Genji and sighed. “I’ll check back when he’s awake. I need to get a wheelchair from storage, in case he _does_ agree.”

There were simple folding chairs along the back wall of the medical bay, so Genji perked up at the mention of one that was, one would assume, more technologically-advanced. He wouldn’t mind helping push his master around in a non-electric wheelchair any more than he would mind carrying him, but he assumed the battery-powered chair would also be more comfortable than a thin seat of leather. He remembered those thin seats from his recovery in Mercy’s care, years ago. She had apologized, said something about bureaucratic budgeting…Overwatch certainly wasn’t in any better a financial condition currently, so it was a boon that there was better in storage.

Master Zenyatta deserved better than uncomfortable leather and tasteless food and countless injections.

He deserved better.

Soft footfalls on the tile behind him made Genji glance back.

“Lena.”

She had showered and changed, her hair damp and hanging slightly limp.

“Hey there, love. Winston pointed me over…He sleeping?”

Genji wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her voice so quiet, and they’d been on stealth missions together.

“He is, yes.”

“Wow. Wonder if he’s dreaming? That’d be something new, eh?”

It was honest ignorance, but…“Omnics dream.”

“Oh.”

Lena shifted her weight from foot to foot, rocking in place, until Genji beckoned her closer. Then she grinned and practically jumped to the side of the bed.

“Didn’t get a good look at him before. He’s…Thai?”

“Mr. Ugyen was from Bhutan.”

“That makes more sense. Looks sort of like him, huh? Somehow. Just without the…” Lena made a vague gesture toward her forehead. “Dots.”

Genji turned from her to Zenyatta, staring at the skin above his brow. It was marred with a few faint wrinkle lines, even while sleeping, and one tiny scar. No “dots.” He hadn’t noticed until that moment, too enraptured by his master’s eyes or voice or fainting. The skin looked barren.

“Makes me want to draw some on! Haha. Oop!” There was, apparently, a limit on the amount of time Lena could use a proper whisper. The lines on Zenyatta’s forehead deepened, his nostrils flared slightly. He woke up. Dark-but-light eyes cracked open—they landed on Genji first, and his chest tightened at how the bottom lids raised ever so slightly in mirth. After a moment, his gaze flickered over to Lena and widened some. “Miss Oxton. Hello again.”

“Hi! Sorry, if I woke you.”

“I don’t believe you did.”

Lena grinned and Zenyatta smiled back at her. Genji still wasn’t used to the soft curve of his new mouth.

“Genji, I’m feeling much better. What did Dr. Ziegler say? Or Winston?”

“Ah…”

Lena’s grin dimmed a watt or two. She flashed Genji an ‘OK’ hand sign that she must have thought was subtle, and blinked away. Zenyatta watched the empty space for a few seconds, then turned back to Genji. “She could have stayed.”

“Probably.”

“Oh, well…The news? And, what is this?”

“That is an IV drip, Master. It’s giving you fluids, intravenously. You were dehydrated, and you, ah, appear to have veins now. I think, too, that the lightness you described earlier means you are hungry.”

“…Even if there’s nowhere for the food to go?”

Genji wished suddenly for Winston, for a solid answer. His hands were fisted on his knees, his back hunched. “There…may be somewhere for it to go. Angela said they cannot find your body, your…skeleton? Inside of you. So, it may have been replaced. With…organs.”

“Genji, what does that mean?”

He glanced up, and his jaw clenched when he saw the vulnerable confusion in Zenyatta’s borrowed brown eyes. Zenyatta stretched out his untapped arm, fingers grasping gently at the sheets near Genji’s knee.

“What does it mean? Am I…human?”

“…What does _that_ mean, Master? What does that mean?”

His master’s fingers curled. Genji reached out, tentative, and covered them with his own. When he risked another glance up, Zenyatta was looking down at their hands. He turned his own, connecting them palm to palm, closing his grip. They were holding hands. Genji couldn’t look up again. He couldn’t bear it. He spoke:

“Does it matter? You are…you, Master. You’re still you. You just have a different face to wear, until it…until it goes away.”

The hand beneath his tensed, slowly tangling their fingers together.

“Genji.”

His master’s voice shook with a fragile timbre. It had never sounded like that before, could not have, even if it needed to. He wished he could close his ears.

“Do you dislike this face? Do you dislike that I’ve stolen it?”

“It was freely given.”

“Do you dislike it?”

“…I could never. I’m…happy for you.” Genji forced himself to raise his chin, though his gaze stayed low, on the light-and-dark play of his and Zenyatta’s fingers. “For now, until it’s over, until Winston…discovers what happened, you can have so many new experiences, Master. So, I’m happy. You should try to enjoy it. Angela is getting you a chair so you will be able to move. You can go wherever you want to go on base, if you feel healthy enough. The kitchen, or the garden, or—”

“I am not sure I want to go anywhere right now, Genji.”

He nodded.

Zenyatta squeezed his hand again, gently. His words were still fractured. “Genji, please look at me. I know when you are being aversive.”

He finally pulled his eyes up.

Deep brown, bright blue, and a devastating red outline. Zenyatta smiled tight. “Human emotions seem very fickle. You are right, Genji. I should enjoy this. There are so many things I should be able to try. You can make me your favorites. I think I am merely overwhelmed. I think you are, as well.”

“…I am, Master Zenyatta. Apologies.”

“There is no need.”

Zenyatta laid his head back and shut his eyes. “I have changed my mind. I would like to go to our room. I think we would both be helped by some meditation.”

“In our room?”

“…I would rather not have someone join us, at this particular time. And I know for a fact that you keep a kettle in your closet. Dr. Ziegler can rest assured knowing you will continue to hydrate me.”

“What was that? He’d better hydrate you.” Angela was smiling when she reappeared, though it still had a slightly bitter edge to it. She briefly knelt to fuss with something near the bottom of the chair and Genji took a moment to appreciate the whole—a well-padded seat with wide arm rests, and a small driving stick that had the torn remnants of a smiley-faced sticker plastered to it. Angela had attached an extra strap near the foot rest that looked to be a repurposed piece of a sling. At the base, he spied something that brought back a wave of nostalgia: a blue and white metal stamp, riveted in place, that showed the official equipment ID number and a QR code. Genji had scanned hundreds of those in the “old days.” He wondered if the database was even still active. He couldn’t imagine it was high on Winston’s list of priorities. Genji looked back to Zenyatta when the man continued, “Like a sprouting flower, I’m sure.”

Their hands slipped apart.

“I do not remember Genji being in possession of a green thumb…” Angela’s smile got a little sweeter. “This goes mostly without saying, but please come back if you lose consciousness again, or if you experience any severe dizziness, or pain. Winston may have other directions; he has requested that you call him.”

Genji nodded. “We will. And do not talk about my thumbs. If they are not green, it is _your_ fault.”

“Ha. Fair enough.”

Carefully, Angela closed the IV line and removed the needle and cannula. Zenyatta hadn’t opened his eyes through the whole ordeal. “Rest. Drink some water or tea, and if you decide to have something to eat—if Winston says that’s all right—it shouldn’t be too heavy. Let me know if there are any complications. Call me _immediately_ …Understood?”

“Yes, doctor.”

Genji had nodded again, then stood up from his seat. “Lena was here a moment ago. Were you aware?”

“What? No. Where?”

“ _Here_. She was visiting. She went…” A small wave in the proper direction from Genji, and Angela was gone. He closed the curtain behind her—around the full-sized bed, the curtain was thin fabric, not meant for blocking radiation, but it still provided privacy. Next, the wheelchair received his attention. It would be easy enough to transfer his master from the bed to the chair. He wondered, though, if the pleather would be uncomfortable on bare skin, so he found a gown on a nearby rolling table and offered it to Zenyatta. The monk had finally opened his eyes again.

“Thank you, Genji. I was getting a bit cold. Funny…I rarely felt cold at the temple.”

He pushed himself up on one arm and slowly maneuvered himself into the gown. He didn’t tie it. He did, however, reach the arm that wasn’t braced against the bed out toward Genji. “I am ready to go now.”

How was he supposed to deny that? Genji looped one arm beneath his master’s and the other beneath his knees, making a smooth lift and transfer to the wheelchair. He arranged Zenyatta’s legs with a gentle touch, opting not to strap them in. Zenyatta held him around the neck until Genji forcibly pulled away (and immediately took up a vigil behind the chair, hands itching to hold handles that weren’t there). He breathed deep. “To the dormitories, then, Master?” “Yes. You should call Winston.”

Zenyatta glanced back over his shoulder—past Genji—to the metal spheres on the floor near the bedside. They’d been silent through it all, following from the lab, to the first bed, to the second. Then, one lit with a soft glow and a quiet _ding_. It rolled out as a leader. The rest trailed behind like ducklings. They all began to chatter as they reached the base of the wheelchair, floating up to take their rightful place around Zenyatta’s neck. They seemed unfazed by his transformation. Zenyatta touched the one that had acted as leader and it _dinged_ again, in a higher octave. Its neighbors jingled incessantly, until Zenyatta tapped each in turn. A few remained calm, content just with being back where they belonged. Once the lot of them were back to being dark and silent, Zenyatta put his hand on the steering stick and buzzed forward. His shoulders perked up a fraction of an inch in a way Genji recognized as pure delight.

His jaw aching from the force of his sudden smile, Genji turned his eyes to the ground and put his fingers near his mandibular joint to start his communicator. “Winston?” The program was internal, projecting his thoughts as a physical manifestation on the receiver’s end, and delivering the answer as an electric impulse to what remained of his inner ear. It allowed silent communication that had been very useful in the early days of Overwatch.

“Genji! Have there been any developments?”

“We are leaving the medical bay. We will be returning to our quarters for meditation. Have you discovered anything?”

Zenyatta was buzzing back and forth in one spot, spinning quarter-turns back and forth in place as he made sense of the controls.

“Not much I know for certain. I do know that Zenyatta’s body is _not_ here, but it must be _somewhere_. My current theory is that it was broken down, somehow, and recycled by the module so it could build a more believable human body.”

“ _Recycled?_ ”

“Maybe a poor choice of words. I still believe that this is a temporary state, Genji. The nanites _will_ break down, and when they do, the module should expire. So call it twenty-four hours, instead of three. Once the module expires, it should reverse itself.”

 _Should, should_. “I understand. Is there anything we need to avoid?”

“I can’t exactly be prescriptive, on that note. Avoid electromagnetic pulses?”

“Winston.”

“No, really! That was only about 40% a joke. I don’t want the nanites to have their program disturbed. Other than that, I’m in the dark. Let me know if anything weird happens.”

“Winston, I would like to make you aware that although my master is unlikely to ‘collect,’ you will most certainly ‘owe him one’ after all of this has been resolved.”

“Hah. Trust me, I know it. I guess I might have to block out a few hours a week for meditating.”

“Or a few hours per day.”

“Uh…”

“I will be in contact, Winston.”

Genji dropped his hand, looking back up to see Zenyatta turning slowly in circles.

“Be careful, master. You might drain the battery.”

“And then, you would carry me! Would you not?”

“…I would.”

“Let us alight.”

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

The path from the medical bay to the personal quarters was blessedly clear. Genji wasn’t sure he could manage much more team interaction (he felt a bit nervous, actually, that Lena might appear out of nowhere yet again, but she did not). The halls were more than wide enough for Zenyatta’s new transport, which probably shouldn’t have surprised Genji as much as it did—government regulations, and all that. They were able to travel side by side, which Zenyatta encouraged, almost demanded, by taking Genji’s hand as he had before. Holding hands was apparently something they would do from that point onward.

That was fine.

Genji resigned himself to a life lived one-handed, opening their dorm door with the one he had free. But just as he’d come to accept his lot, Zenyatta released him to move deeper into the room.

“Dr. Ziegler said I should rest, did she not?” His chair spun slowly around. “So, I think I should be tucked into bed.”

Normally, Zenyatta slept floating in the corner of the room, near the head of Genji’s bed, with his few belongings hanging around him (they included a postcard showcasing the Nepalese Himalayas, a long string of jade beads, and a Polaroid photograph of the late Tekhartha Mondatta). Half the nights he didn’t even recharge, opting instead to meditate until it was time to attend breakfast. Zenyatta always made an effort to appear at the breakfast table.

Genji blinked, coming back to himself. He looked, instinctively, as his own bed. Then he realized that Zenyatta was looking at the other, and closed the door. The other bed in the Shimada-Tekhartha residence was used for storage. It was technically Zenyatta’s, but with the number of books, magazines, newspapers, and wooden puzzles that littered its surface, Genji had trouble seeing it as a bed at all. They really had nowhere else to store such things. It would be inefficient to move them off. It would be a waste of time. Indubitably.

“Master.”

“Yes, my student?”

He felt irradiated.

“Would it not be easier to rest in the clean bed?”

The clean bed. _His_ bed. He obscured it like a child putting a poorly-done assignment at the bottom of the stack. It was _his_ bed.

Zenyatta looked at Genji. He looked at Genji’s bed. He looked at the stacks of media (and toys). He looked back to Genji’s bed, and back at Genji.

“Ah. I suppose that _would_ be easier. You do not mind?”

“Of course not.”

“Tuck me into that one, then! I have never been tucked in before.” He drove his chair the rest of the way to the bed (just a couple of dozen centimeters) and took his hand off the controller to throw back the blanket and wait patiently.

It took Genji over thirty seconds to collect himself before he stepped forward and put his hands out, kneeling slightly. Zenyatta’s arms wrapped around his neck, his head settling on Genji’s shoulder. Soon, however, it had transferred from shoulder to pillow. Genji stepped back. Zenyatta was smiling again, a flash of teeth. His eyes were dancing around the room from his new vantage point, taking everything in from a fresh angle. His head tilted all the way back, neck stretched long and elegant, and stared.

Genji tracked Zenyatta’s gaze. His master was staring upside-down at the picture of his late…friend? Brother? Master? (He made a mental note to find out exactly what Zenyatta considered Mondatta.) He looked back to Zenyatta on the bed. Long fingers were pinching his hospital gown, running down the hem. They paused suddenly and Zenyatta sat up. “I would like to try tea. Would you make some for me, Genji?”

“…Yes.”

He busied himself, then, fetching the kettle from his closet and filling it from a large bottle of purified water. It boiled quickly. Genji unplugged the kettle and opened the top to let the water cool as he gathered cups and two measures of green tea leaves. He only had one diffuser—he used it for Zenyatta’s cup. He felt the monk’s eyes on him the whole time.

A nigh-immeasurable length of time later (approximately two minutes), Genji turned and stood, offering Zenyatta the leaf-free cup. He put a lid on his own, to sip it without getting a mouthful of ruffage. Zenyatta accepted it with one hand, as the other was helping him keep propped up. “The porcelain is very warm…It smells differently than I had expected.”

“Different teas have different scents…The kind that Lena favors, for example, smells slightly of citrus.” Genji pursed his lips. “Which smells like…Well.” There was no point in trying to describe it to someone who had smelled nothing but green tea and a medical bay. And, perhaps, inadvertently, peanut butter. He shrugged.

“Maybe we will have the opportunity to gather some example scents before I lose this form. But for now, join me?”

Genji removed his faceplate. The room felt cool against his burning skin.

Zenyatta lifted a second hand to the cup and began to wobble without his prop. Genji shifted his own cup and reached to plant his freed hand in the middle of Zenyatta’s back to keep him upright. There was a murmur of “thank you” before Zenyatta brought his cup to his mouth and sipped. He frowned. Deeply.

“…Oh.”

“Master?”

Zenyatta’s shoulders slumped, rocking forward a bit so some pressure was relieved from Genji’s hand on his back. His glance over was sheepish. And crushed. “I don’t like it at all.”

“Ah…”

Softly glowing eyes winced, lips pouting. “Genji. It’s bad.”

“Aha. Ahahaha!”

Genji fell forward, keeping his one hand braced between Zenyatta’s sharp shoulder blades and catching himself with the other on top of his tea cup on the bed. He laughed until he was gasping and tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, and he only stopped when he felt a touch to his wet cheek. He had to gulp in deep breaths to catch up, coughing weakly and blinking to clear the small amount of pain. Genji leaned into the unfamiliar warmth of Zenyatta’s palm. He sniffed.

“…Still overwhelmed, my student?”

When Genji could focus again, he chose, for once, to focus on his master’s face. He nodded. “I’m worried, Master. I’m worried about you.”

“Whatever happens, will happen, Genji.”

“Are you not afraid?”

“I am. But…I’m glad that you are here with me. Having you here makes me less afraid. It helps me enjoy life as it comes. It always has, since I met you.”

“Master…”

“I think it might be…because I trust you _so_ much. I trust you to be strong, for yourself, and for me, if something goes wrong. I trust you to keep a calm head. And…I trust you to still care for me, if I have to remain like this… _even_ if I never acquire a taste for green tea.”

Genji didn’t feel strong, and he didn’t feel calm, and the aftertaste of the tea was turning bitter in the back of his throat. The idea of Zenyatta being trapped for an indeterminable length of time in a body that might never feel fully like his own was horrifying. But Genji nodded again.

“I trust you as well. I trust you.”

Zenyatta gave his cheek a small pinch before he drew his hand back. “Then we have little to fear, because we trust each other. Now, please take this away.”

“You need to drink _something_ , Master.”

“I will try water instead.”

Zenyatta found water unobjectionable, so he drank three cups after Genji built him a short mound of pillows to lie back against (he had expressed a not-insignificant amount of confusions at why human bodies had a path to their stomach directly behind a path to their lungs, and why lying flat would make it _easier_ to choke and not _harder_ , given that positioning—Genji got him off the topic only by promising they would ask Angela at Zenyatta’s next physical examination).

They were sitting together in silence, Genji having set himself on the edge of the mattress, when Zenyatta held his cup out for the fifth time.

“Another?”

“Not right now. But…I would like to try eating something. I do not think I will be able to meditate with this… _hunger_.”

Genji took the cup and put it with his own on the floor beneath the bed. He could rinse them and put them away later. There was something about that word he’d found unsettling. _Hunger_.

“Is there anything to eat here?”

“No. I will have to fetch you something from the mess hall.”

A beat of silence stretched between them. Zenyatta broke it: “Can we not go together?”

“…If you are feeling up to it, Master, we can. But I imagine there will be other agents—”

“I am feeling up to it now. Let’s have a meal together, Genji!”

And again, how could he deny that?


	3. The Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta eats.

There were no set meal times at the Watchpoint. Agents came and went as their schedules (and cultures) dictated, cooking and eating food from personal stashes and from the bulk items supplied by Winston’s master shopping list. Things rarely required labeling. There were few enough agents that “food feuds” were few and far between. Those that happened were always quickly resolved—the worst Genji remembered was when Reinhardt had been “unable to resist” trying a small pink gelatin snack that he’d found in the refrigerator. For a week, just the sight of him sent Miss Song into a rage. The raging only ended when she was allowed a miniature fridge in her dorm, a privilege she’d been seeking almost since she’d arrived. Reinhardt had moped in guilt for a week longer than that.

All of that to say, Genji wasn’t quite sure how much traffic they would experience going to the mess hall. It was somewhat isolated from the rest of the base. The architecture set out a fairly direct path from the dormitories to the mess, the only branching path led outside to the enclosed green space, which Zenyatta glanced down with interest as they passed.

“Genji. After we dine…?”

“Of course, Master.”

“Will this be lunch? Will we be lunching, instead of dining?”

It was nearly three in the afternoon.

Genji offered a small shrug. “I am not sure. I do not think it matters. I have seen McCree make breakfast foods after midnight, so whether we are having lunch or dinner now…” He shrugged again, and Zenyatta’s pensive look faded back into the closed-mouth smile that had dominated his expression all the way from their room. “There are too many things to try, aren’t there? I wonder if someone, even with an entire life to live, could ever try them all. Perhaps in small bites.” “Perhaps.” “I have only a matter of hours…so I should choose carefully, don’t you think?”

Under twenty-four hours, if Winston’s estimation was correct. Genji fixed his gaze down the hallway. The tea and water had been ingested safely (or it appeared as much, so far), but that didn’t tell them anything about whether the module’s persona could handle solid foods. And while it was understandable that Zenyatta hadn’t cared for plain tea, there was _also_ no way of knowing if he was tasting things properly. The senses might be—

“Hello, Miss Song!”

“Hm? … _Hm?_ ” She was carrying a large bag of some snack in her mouth, a bottle of water in each hand. Quickly, she rearranged the load, putting one bottle under her arm and snatching the bag from her teeth. “Zenny? What’s with the skin?”

“It is a disguise, but a very good one! Winston created it. He and Dr. Ziegler say that I am _very_ human. Genji is taking me to get something to eat.”

Hana looked to him, a little grin on her face. She was dressed in casual clothing instead of her bodysuit, but her make-up was done and she was wearing a wireless headset. “Are you, Genji? That’s so nice of you!”

He was getting tired of people _looking_ at him like that. She turned back to Zenyatta.

“A disguise, huh? How long’s it last?”

“It should end within twenty-four hours.”

“Cool…So, did you forget how to walk, or…? Wait! Did you know how to walk before?”

Zenyatta _laughed_ and Genji clenched his jaw.

“Yes! I did. And I did not forget. This disguise is based on a man who donated his body to scientific causes. He could not walk, so while I am disguised, I cannot.”

“That seems sort of overkill, huh? But I guess that’s a pretty good trade-off, if you can _eat_ now. Crazy! You should come by later and eat something on my stream. Maybe… _gochujang?_ Chat will freak out. We might have to draw your dots on, though, or they won’t recognize you.”

“My…dots?” “‘ _Recognize’_ you?”

“Yeah! I can take a marker and just… _doot-doot-doot_. Let me know, okay? I gotta get back. Bye, Gen-Zen!” She started down the hall at a fast-walk, nearly a skip, and shoved the bag of—now that Genji could see them better—curried plantain chips back into her mouth. She put her hand out as she passed and Zenyatta clapped his own against it. Then she disappeared into her room with a slammed door.

Ignoring that he had just witnessed his master _high-five_ someone, Genji started again toward the mess. “…What did she mean, ‘recognize’ you? Master?”

“Oh, I have met Miss Song’s chat friends before! Some nights, when I cannot sleep, we will play games together. She believes that seeing me will help some of her friends overcome their latent prejudice toward omnics, so I am happy to be seen.”

“I see. I have not noticed you leaving.”

“I take much care not to wake you, my student. And it rarely happens more than once in a month.”

It didn’t make much sense. Genji was a light sleeper, by training _and_ by necessity (though the necessity was less now). And beyond that, he had always considered himself _very_ tuned in to his master’s movements. They were practically inseparable. They were…“Gen-Zen?”

“Ah. That is Miss Song’s ‘pair name’ for us. She has names like that for people who are close friends, and usually ‘hanging out’ with each other. She says it’s easier than saying both people’s names…and her chat likes it very much. They have little pictures that they post whenever she mentions such a pair. It is _very_ cute.”

Genji tried not to think of the implications that any of that held. Instead, he walked ahead to trigger the sliding door at the end of the hallway, so Zenyatta could freely drive through. He held his breath as he looked up at the table.

Too much to ask that the kitchen be empty, of course, but it at least wasn’t _packed_. Lúcio and Mei were sitting across from each other, a small device between them that _looked_ like Mei’s drone, but wasn’t. Only Lúcio glanced up at their arrival. He did a triple-take.

“Monk man?”

Zenyatta’s smile broke open from mild to delighted and he buzzed in closer. “Yes! Hello, Mr. dos Santos. Hello, Mei-Ling.”

Mei turned at that, pushing up her glasses. “Zenya—eh? Really _?_ What happened to you?”

Zenyatta happily explained Winston’s module for the third time, dragging a chair away from the table so he could move his wheelchair into its place. His audience, both tinkerers in their own right, listened rapt.

“So, you’re human for a day? Basically? That’s incredible!”

“It really is. It’s almost unbelievable! But if that’s what Winston thinks…” Mei nodded, sitting back straight. “You should take advantage of it. Do you want me to make you something?”

“That would be very kind of you. Only, I am afraid I have no idea what I’d like. There are so many choices…”

Lúcio perked up again, leaning on an elbow toward Zenyatta. “Are you gonna try any, like, meats?”

“Meat? Oh, no. I don’t want to eat any animals.”

“ _That’s_ what I thought. You don’t seem the type, you know? And, hey, that’s less choices. What about milk, or eggs?”

“I…well, no. I don’t think I would like those, either.”

“My _man_. Yes!” Zenyatta received a gentle clap on the shoulder. “Overwatch vegan club, _officially_ two members.”

Zenyatta smiled again, eyes crinkling, and lightly tapped Lúcio’s hand. “What does that leave, then, to try?”

“Lots of stuff! I mean, _everything_ , if we use substitutes, but I don’t have a lot on hand right now. But rice and beans, for sure, and noodles—hey, Genji, what about noodles? Miso? Oh, man, and you gotta try _fruit!_ Nature’s candy, Zen. Here, wait.”

Lúcio pushed himself up to start digging through the pantry. Mei stood, too. “I’ll get some bowls. Are you eating, too, Genji?”

He wanted to say “no,” but Zenyatta looked back at him with such a hopeful expression. Genji reached up and took his faceplate off again. It was probably only the second time either of the agents in front of him had seen beneath it. He forced himself to smile. “Thank you, Mei.”

After a few minutes, Lúcio had gathered a veritable mountain of treats on the table. Fresh fruits, dried fruits, fruit leathers, canned juices, a jar of jam, and even one frozen pop.

“That’s going to ruin his appetite.”

“It’ll be fine! Just a taste, yeah?”

Genji sat down next to Zenyatta, who had picked up a small apple and was turning it around in his hands. He traced the stripes on the skin, touched the stem. Mei glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “You know, I remember a game from school…Whenever someone ate an apple, or a pear, you would have to grab the stem and twist it. Every twist, you would count out a letter, and whatever letter you were on when the stem came off, that would be the first letter in the name of the person you’d marry!”

“How’d that work? I thought Chinese didn’t have letters.”

“Hehe. Well, we just used _pīnyīn_. Like for me, it would be _M_. Some people used their last names if the letter was earlier. You’d want to use your last name, Zenyatta. I don’t know if I ever saw someone get to _Z_ without cheating, and we even skipped some letters.”

“Hm.” Zenyatta turned the fruit over in his hands, thumb touching the divot on top from where the stem emerged. Then he set it back down near the pile. “Are there any other games people play with fruit?”

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

When he ate, Zenyatta became the biggest distraction since Winston’s real-life Annoy-o-Tron. It wasn’t that he was messy, or loud. It was that he was _adorable_. He took small nibbling bites of each thing offered to him, mouth upturning when he liked the taste, face contorting when he didn’t. His emotions were plainly readable, and endlessly sincere. His preference was for things either sweet, sour, or both. Plums went over very well. Pineapple-papaya juice led to the licking of a thumb. Sweetened dried cranberries were deemed the favorite. And all of that was prior to the main course.

Mei had insisted on cooking, so Lúcio had pulled what seemed like every vegetable in the world out of the refrigerator. They’d picked them over for the best combination and went to work. Mushroom broth, soft tofu, red miso paste, thinly sliced vegetables, and buckwheat noodles. It was a slightly ambitious collection of flavors, but when Lúcio placed a deep bowl in front of Genji, he had to admit…it smelled good.

“Zenyatta, do you want to try using chopsticks? Have you ever held them before?” A soft shoulder appeared between Genji and his soup. He frowned—and immediately schooled his features when he remembered his face was uncovered. “Here. Set this one here, and hold this one in place like…” Mei was touching Zenyatta’s hand. She had cooked for him, and she was touching his hand. He was laughing quietly, politely. “Oh, I’m not very good at it, am I?” “It just takes practice! You can just use a fork this time. Noodles in soup are hard to eat with lacquered ones like this.”

Genji felt his skin prickle and looked up to find Lúcio’s dark eyes on him. The medic raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. One of those looks again. Genji smiled, and Lúcio shook his head, so Genji let the pretense drop and hunkered down to eat with a special brand of speed and detachment that he’d honed in his teen years.

“What smells good in here? Is that little Mei’s cooking?”

The shoulder disappeared, finally, as its owner spun on her heel toward the voice at the door. “Zarya! Lúcio and I made soup! Do you want some?”

“Lúcio…? Is it a vegetable soup?”

“…Well, yes. But we could add some chicken to your bowl, if you’d like!”

“Thank you, but I will make something for myself.” Zarya moved to the fridge, and Genji could tell from the giggle (and quiet protest) that she had ruffled Mei’s hair on the way by. She opened one of the double doors and dug around for a moment, emerging with a small box of chocolate milk and a carton of eggs. She set both on the edge of the counter, then went back to the top shelf for a jar Genji didn’t recognize. It was only then that Zarya looked back to the table. And saw Zenyatta. Her eyes narrowed, first in confusion and then in open annoyance.

“Sitting next to Mr. Shimada, metal necklace. This can only be our friend, the omnic, though you look different. How?”

For once, Zenyatta did not launch into a tale of Winston’s brilliance. He turned his fork slowly in his bowl, eyes on the table beside it. Mei-Ling spoke up on his behalf, smiling as she explained. Zarya looked unimpressed.

“A disguise…? Hmph. You are wearing a dead man’s face to hide, but there is no one to hide from here. Do you think that there is? Who are you hiding—”

“—Winston had to test it. I thought it better that he test it first on someone who…who…”

“Uhm! Zarya! What are you making to eat? Eggs? Is that your special seasoning? Are you ever going to tell me what’s in that?” Mei had looped around the table faster than Genji had ever seen her move on dry land, cutting off Zarya’s line of sight as effectively as she could. “Could you show me how you use it? We have some kale left over, if you want me to chop it for you.”

“…Kale? In eggs?”

Genji snapped his faceplate back into place and set his hand on his master’s shoulder. He asked, in quiet Nepali, if they should leave. Zenyatta nodded.

“Hey…” It was Lúcio, voice pitched low. He grinned small, expression tender. “It was cool seeing you.” He glanced between them for emphasis, then jerked his head up in good-bye.

They left.

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

Genji scouted ahead. It was clear and silent. The air was warm, slightly humid with a gentle breeze that came through the ventilation system. It was safer than the space outside—literally, since it had no steep cliff, but figuratively, too. He looked around. It was easy to see what Torbjörn had been “busy” with. The small space had been filled with floating pots of vibrant flowers, modular lattice screens with mismatched species of vines crawling up and through them, and benches that looked surprisingly comfortable for being made of metal. The lights in the walkway beneath his feet were glowing a soft yellow-orange. It was peaceful. That was good. It was empty. That was better.

He stuck his head back into the base.

Zenyatta was looking down at something in his lap. At first, Genji thought it was one of his mala, but every one was accounted for around Zenyatta’s neck. Genji watched Zenyatta’s hands move over the surface of the thing. He caught a flash of color.

It was the apple.

Genji cleared his throat. Zenyatta smiled without looking up.

“Is it…quiet?”

“Yes, Master.”

Zenyatta kept the apple in one hand as he set his other on the controller, driving past Genji at walking speed down the glowing path, toward one of the benches. He stopped in front of it, carefully maneuvered the chair until he faced the corner, and began to drag himself over.

“Master! Wait, I can—”

In lieu of answering, Zenyatta completed the transfer. He anchored himself with one arm—the one holding the apple—carefully hooked over the back of the bench, while his free hand grabbed each of his legs in turn to tuck them into position. Lotus position, Genji realized.

Genji moved to join him, falling into crossed legs in front of him, in the grass. After hours of being near the same height, Genji felt compelled to look _up_ at his master again.

So he did.

Zenyatta’s eyes were closed. But. They were wrenched shut. That was not normally how his eyes looked, when getting ready for meditation—only, maybe it wasn’t that unusual, either? His “eyes” had always looked the same before, after all. Had Genji not been as adept at reading his master’s emotions as he’d once thought? How many times had they settled together, side by side, with him being blind to his master’s frustrations? How many times had he missed a storm in his master’s heart, after a confrontation with Zarya, or with Torbjörn? How many times had his master’s normal face, his calm, unchanging face, hidden inner turmoil?

The eyes opened. “Genji…Your thoughts are incredibly loud.”

“…Apologies, Master.”

“I would accept an explanation instead.”

“I…”

Zenyatta gazed at him, gazed through him and his armor.

“I…am worried. I am worried again.”

“About Winston’s work?”

“About myself, Master.”

That gave Zenyatta pause. The crease between his brows deepened.

“Do I…know you?”

The crease disappeared, brows raised high instead. “ _Genji_.” His voice sounded thin. “You do know me. You know me better than anyone else. _Anyone_.” It got thinner still. “You feel you do not?”

“I _worry_ I do not. Master, in this body, your pain is so clear on your face. I fear that I…”

“The worry has turned to fear now?”

“…To _terror_. I feel sick, Master, that I may have left you without comfort while you were hurt.”

“Oh, Genji…”

Zenyatta reached out a hand and Genji grabbed it as a lifeline.

“I understand your fear, my student. I _do_. There are still days when I wonder if I am reading you properly. You are so good at hiding yourself. I never considered I might be hiding, too.”

“ _Are_ you?”

“I…am not trying to. I said before, these human emotions are capricious. I am feeling things so strongly. It is unlike anything I have experienced before. The… _pain_ that I’m feeling is new. You could not have missed it before, because I had not felt it.”

“Ah…”

Zenyatta squeezed his hand. Genji squeezed back.

“I had thought my respect for you could grow no more, Genji, but knowing that you deal with _these_ feelings...”

“They are unpleasant, aren’t they?”

That got a laugh, still thin, but comforting. “ _Unpleasant_. That is a good word.” Zenyatta took a deep breath. “Is this what makes us different? Humans and…machine?”

“You are not a machine.”

“And I am not human.”

“If there is a difference, Master, it is _not_ strength of emotion. There are humans who experience less emotion than others, and some who experience more…There is a _spectrum_.”

“We exist on a different spectrum, then.”

“…Maybe, yes. But that doesn’t mean…whatever it is you are _implying_ it means.”

“Ahah…Genji, I am not trying to imply anything. I am only…waxing philosophic.”

He drew his hand back and shut his eyes again, more gently. Genji followed suit, his stomach still roiling.

Which reminded him.

“…Master?”

“Hm?”

“Did you enjoy your meal?”

“Yes, thank you.”

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

Just over an hour later, Genji’s clear mind was muddied by Winston’s voice in his ear.

“Genji, are you busy? How are things going?”

His hand snapped up out of habit. He considered not answering. “Winston. Everything is fine. He ate and drank, and there have been no ill effects.”

“Fascinating.”

“Was that all?”

“Ah, sorry. You _are_ busy?”

“…I am not too busy to discuss this. I _am_ too busy for idle chatter.”

“Wow. I haven’t heard that one in _years_.”

“Winston, I am hanging up.”

“Haha. It’s fine! Sorry, Genji, sorry. The line’s open if anything happens.”

“And if you learn anything new—”

“You’ll be the first to know. But I’ll be honest, I don’t foresee any answers coming in before the nanites expire. After that, answers abound. Probably.”

“ _Now_ , I am hanging up.”

Winston got most of his good-bye out before he was cut off.

Genji sighed and dropped his hand back to his knee, shoulders relaxing, his breaths evening out. He felt someone staring. Genji resisted the urge to tense as he opened his eyes. It was only Zenyatta. Genji sat in silence, watching his master in return.

After a long minute of nothing, Zenyatta glanced away. He seemed to take his time looking about the garden space. Eventually he looked back at Genji, then away again. He picked up the apple that he’d set down before their meditation and turned it once in hand.

He touched the stem with his other hand, gently tapping it on the end, giving it a slight wiggle, before pinching it between his fingers.

Genji watched as Zenyatta turned the fruit once, twice, three times, and again, and again, and again.

And again.

The stem snapped.

“…Master?”

Zenyatta looked up with a start and the apple fell. Genji caught it before it struck the walkway between them. He offered it back and Zenyatta took it in both hands.

“Thank you.” It was automatic speech, breathless.

Blushing.

“You’re very welcome.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be sort of funny to make Lúcio vegan because Brazil has a lot of amazing cultural dishes that are FAR from vegan, and I'm sure he spends some nights sighing to himself while he looks at pictures of those dishes on his phone. He's green, so I made him greener.
> 
> Also, Hana and Zenyatta are good friends. Such good friends, she can probably convince Zenyatta to try a Dorito...even if they aren't strictly vegan. It won't be easy, though, because Zenyatta may not actually be vegan (remains to be seen), but he sure is proud to be the second member of that club.
> 
> The chat emote for Gen-Zen is left up to your imagination. What other "pair name" emotes do you think they have?


	4. The Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> References are made to other popular robots, and Zenyatta tries on new clothes.

“Are you…finished meditating, Master?”

“Uhm. Yes.”

The moment stretched on for a long time before Genji picked himself up. “Did you want to stay outside, or…?”

Zenyatta was holding the apple to his lips but hadn’t yet taken a bite. He was watching some of the ivy to his right, as though it might start crawling. “I…” He pursed his lips tight, then pressed the apple against them tighter. “Hmm.”

“There are still many things to do. We could…or…you could...If you wanted to go see Miss Song…”

“I don’t want to be apart from you.”

Genji’s knees went weak, and he took it as an excuse to sit down on the bench next to his master. “…All right.”

“I _would_ like to see Miss Song, but, on second thought…I do _not_ think Winston would want his project revealed to her chat friends.”

“…That…is a very keen observation, actually.”

“I hope she has not told them to expect me. I would hate to be the cause of disappointment. They get very ‘salty’ when disappointed.” The apple had dropped a few inches. “Maybe she could introduce me as a different person?”

“Master, if we have learned nothing else today, we have learned that you are _recognizable_.”

“Well, I think that if I were to change my clothes, and leave my orbs…”

“We don’t really own any extra clothes, Master.”

“Hey, Genji!”

Genji’s head perked up and he started to look around the garden space before he sighed and raised his hand.

“Winston?” “ _Winston_.”

He said it inwardly _and_ outwardly.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I sent a message to Torbjörn earlier and he just replied. He’ll probably show up soon, so I…uh…I mean, you know, I just wanted to give you two a heads up. Just in case.”

“Just in case?”

“Well, yeah. You know.”

Genji was silent, because he did _not_ know.

“… _Anyway_ , he’s going to do some scans for me. Shouldn’t take long. Things still going well?”

“It has been _minutes_.”

“A lot can happen in a minute!”

That was true. Very true.

“Like, I don’t know…indigestion? We don’t know how many of his bodily functions work, or what capacities they work in. I’m hoping _these_ scans will give us some indirect information. The CT scan didn’t work, but I think focusing on components instead of on the whole will get past any unintended defense systems—”

“Winston, I apologize, but I do not care.”

“…Fair enough. I’ll hang up this time. Don’t block me!”

“I was not _going_ —” The channel closed. “Hm.”

He dropped his hand and saw Zenyatta watching him in his peripheral. And Torbjörn approaching over a hospital-gowned shoulder. Genji pointed subtly with his chin. “More tests.” “Ah.” Zenyatta turned at the waist, hands (and apple) back down in his lap. “Hello, Mr. Lindholm.”

“… _Hi_. Looking remarkably human, there.”

Zenyatta chose not to respond. Instead, he looked at the tool in Torbjörn’s hand, which was looking remarkably like a gun. The engineer followed his eyes and sneered a bit. “Scanner. For scanning. Now, hold still. Heard your legs don’t work so that ought to be easy, hm? Genji. Move.”

“Is that safe?”

“Sure. _Move_.”

Genji hopped off the bench and moved to stand next to Torbjörn, watching him fiddle with a setting on the scan-gun. Then he pointed it, lining up a teal-ish crosshair on Zenyatta’s chest and pulling a trigger—a _trigger_. The scanner started buzzing; it did nothing else of note until it let out a quiet _blip_. Torbjörn changed the setting again, aimed again, pulled the trigger again. _Blip_. The whole process repeated two times more.

“Thought so. Your omnic friend’s still got plenty of metal in there.”

“Winston said his body is not inside.”

“It’s not. Metal’s there, though. Broken down and re-formed into less-conductive compounds. Clever. I doubt any normal metal detector would pick them up.”

“Can they be _re_ -re-formed?”

“Oh, sure. Those chassis metals all have memory, physical and chemical. Might have to put it in the bath for a bit if it comes out looking wonky.” He clicked off the scanner and holstered it in his tool belt. “It’ll be fun to see how that ‘skin’ comes off, though. My money is on _horror show_.”

“Torbjörn…”

“Just saying. We’ll see.”

Genji frowned. “I doubt that you will.”

Torbjörn shrugged, then went about the garden checking on his gadgets and décor (he spared the wheelchair a derisive glance; Genji could almost _see_ it being added to Torbjörn’s mental list of to-do upgrades).

“…Genji, can we go?”

“Ah. Of course.”

Zenyatta got himself into the chair, tucking his apple under his chin at one point, until the transfer was complete. He turned about on the path and buzzed quietly past Genji, who followed.

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

“ _There_ you are. I’ve been looking all over!” They were two doors down from their dorm room when Lena’s bright voice rang out. “Well…mostly in the kitchen, to be honest.” She was holding two travel mugs and smiling wide. “Lúcio filled me in on some things…But, look! I brought _real_ tea! I even made yours with fake milk. I think it’s…oats?”

“Ah. Thank you, Miss Oxton.” She’d actually walked down the hallway for once, instead of blinking, to hand Zenyatta his mug.

“Lena, please, love. You two tucking in for the night? It’s still so early.”

“…I was…unsure of what else to do. We cannot leave the base. I am no longer hungry. Meditation has been…difficult.”

“Difficult? For you? Hard to believe that. But hey, there’s _plenty_ to do. Why don’t we watch a movie? You can use all that practice sitting still. And I know _just_ the one. A classic. Come on!”

The confident way she strode past them didn’t leave much room to argue.

“How d’you like your tea? I made it pretty sweet.”

Zenyatta had, at some point, balanced his apple in his lap so he could raise the mug to his lips and still drive. At Lena’s question, he slowly lowered the mug and smiled. “I like it…Why does it taste so different, Genji?”

“Did you not like green tea? Haha, aww...”

“Is it only the sugar?”

Genji _hmm_ ed. “The sugar and milk, yes…but the tea itself is also different. Black tea is fermented, and as I mentioned before, the different blends…”

“I see! Can you put sugar and milk into green tea?”

“Technically, yes.”

“I would like to try that, then.”

“The blend I drink would not be good for it…but Miss Song, I believe, has cans of milk tea.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it. You’re welcome to join me for a cup _any_ time.”

“Thank you, Mi—Lena.”

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

Down the hall and through a hub room was a conference area that had been co-opted into a media center. It was most often used for movies, but once Lúcio had gathered everyone to watch a virtual concert by a friend of his, and another time, Reinhardt had discovered an old external drive full of pictures and presented a slideshow.

There had been hundreds. Plenty of them showed the early Overwatch agents in their younger, somewhat more emotional, years. Genji had avoided the place ever since. And because Genji avoided it, so did Zenyatta. This meant that the other agents, new and old, were regularly scandalized by how few films their resident monk had seen. There wasn’t a lot of cinema around the temple in Nepal. Genji, at least, had gotten some experience during his life in Hanamura.

The room itself was painted dark and matte over the metal walls, with a plethora of rugs and several mismatched couches strewn around one side of a large conference table that sat in the center. The wall on the opposite side was a giant screen.

Zenyatta glanced toward it. The glance turned into a stare. He handed Genji his emptied travel mug, then rotated his chair to carve a path over three different rugs to park himself in front of the shiny black surface, reaching up to touch his reflection.

“Master?”

“… _This_ is what I look like.”

“Eh? You hadn’t seen your reflection before _now?_ What?”

“I do not have a habit of looking in the mirror.” On the glass, he traced the shape of his head, and the curve of his cheek. When he drew his hand back, it stuttered. He leaned closer to look at the smudge he’d left behind. “ _Oh_. That’s what…Finger prints! Fascinating.”

“Careful there, love. Torby will fuss if he sees that.” Lena shuffled forward, rubbing at the smudge with the sleeve of her shirt. She huffed out a breath on it and rubbed it again. “We can use some ink to get a nice print later, or a digital scanner, if you’re so curious. I mean, I s’pose this guy’s would already be on file, but…”

“Ah. That’s right. They aren’t mine.”

“…Well, I wouldn’t say _that_.”

Zenyatta looked at her, brows drawing slightly together.

“They _are_ yours…For now. That’s _your_ face, for now. Whenever you did _anything_ for Overwatch, there was always a million papers to read and sign, yeah? Especially for experimental bollocks.” Lena smiled soft and knocked against the bulk on her chest, the sound dulled by the fabric of her shirt. “The guy whose face that _used_ to be knew exactly what he was getting into, Zenny. I mean, if he read what he signed, at least. Aheh. But, what I’m saying is that he’d _want_ you to _enjoy_ it. It’s a _gift_ that he’s given you, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t he want you to embrace it?”

Zenyatta looked back at the dark screen and slowly smiled. “…I suppose that sounds…Yes. You’re right.”

“Of course I am! Now, this movie—” They chose a couch and piled on, Zenyatta perched in the middle.

The movie was about an old robot and a fancy new robot who fell in love. In one scene, the robots started dancing…and Lena quickly paused it when Zenyatta burst into tears.

She threw her arms around him, squeezing Zenyatta, rubbing his back, and staring wide-eyed at Genji, who was every bit as lost as Lena was. She refused to believe this, apparently, because she kept mouthing, “ _do something!_ ” He could hear the exclamation point. What on Earth was _he_ supposed to do?

Genji raised his own arms, very carefully, and placed them around his master. Lena drew back, leaving him on his own—so much for scaffolding. Zenyatta turned into him, which was when Genji realized he was grinning through his quiet, shaky sobs. “M-master?”

“Genji!” Zenyatta gasped, laying his head down on Genji’s shoulder, facing into his neck. “I’m not sad! I…I feel _happy_ , I think? I cannot…I like it! I _like_ this movie. Please, Lena, do not turn it off.”

“It’s only paused…Uh. You okay, then, love?”

“I _am_ okay. I am very all right.” Zenyatta’s nose pushed forward into Genji’s skin, sniffling a bit. His own arms came up, ghosting across the interlocking panels on Genji’s back, but soon disappeared. Zenyatta pulled away, re-settling into his seat in the center of the couch. It was too brief to be called an embrace.

Lena put the movie back on.

Genji remained in shocked silence until the credits, when the door to the room slid open.

It was Lúcio, who perked up at the screen. “Good timing! Did you like it, Zen?”

“I liked it very much, yes.”

“Haha, _not_ surprised. Oh, and hey, how was the tea with that oat milk?”

“Well, I have not had regular milk, so I cannot judge the difference, but I liked _that_ very much, as well.”

“Awesome! That’s great!” Lúcio strode in and perched on the table in front of them, one knee drawn up. He sat and watched the credits roll, head bobbing to the end theme until it faded off into instrumentals.

“…You know, I’m planning another concert night.” “Another friend of yours?” “Not this time. It’s an omnic collective out of Paris. They’ve got a show lined up in Lisbon and they’re gonna be broadcasting it live. Thought you might find that kind of cool. Especially, ‘cause, like, I got this idea…”

Zenyatta tilted his head, and Lena leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. Genji was only somewhat recovered, but he could at least follow Lúcio’s words.

“These guys are blowing _up_. So popular. Millions of records sold, basically overnight. Omnics and humans both, they love them, right? They played their first show outside of Paris in Numbani, and obviously _that_ one went over great. Sold out, thousands of people outside the venue, _amazing_. But _this_ one…” Lúcio’s smile tightened a bit, expression going serious. “Lisbon isn’t Numbani, you know? It’s just not. And this show’s gonna be _huge_. So…I think Overwatch should be there. For _protection_. At least a few of us, right? To keep an eye on things. It’s been on my mind for a while, but _now_ , with this disguise thing? We could really make it happen.” His smile spread wide again, loose and cool. “What do you think? Think Winston will agree?”

“They’re…omnics? Playing music?”

“ _Making_ music. It’s not like an orchestra. They’re DJs, like me. Mixing and _creating_ right up there on stage. It’s incredible.” Lúcio put his raised leg down so he could keep his balance as he reached out and set his hands on Zenyatta’s shoulders. “I don’t know how anyone could listen to them, and not believe…” He shook his head. “They’re _important_. That’s what I’m saying. So Winston’s _gotta_ listen. He’s _got_ to.”

“Or you’ll be going on your own.”

A crack in appeared in his smile that pushed it pretty deep into “mischievous grin” territory. “I’m not respondin’ to that, _mermao_.”

“Well, I do think Winston will listen…but it may be best not to approach him until he is more comfortable with this module. Is the show very soon?”

“We’ve got a couple weeks.”

“Then I would suggest you wait at least a few days.”

“Yeah. Lena, Genji?”

“I’ll be right there with you, love. Couldn’t keep me away if you tried!”

Genji was a bit busy staring at the too-clever hands clasped on Zenyatta’s shoulders to respond immediately (his head was turned toward Lúcio, though his eyes weren’t). He nodded after a few seconds. “Your logic is sound. If Winston does not agree, I will help you to convince him.”

“Great!”

“Yeah, great, but, what now? If that’s on the back burner for a bit.”

“Yeah…”

Lúcio’s hands lifted off, and he gave Zenyatta a quick up-and-down that Genji was not entirely comfortable witnessing.

“Yo, why are you still wearing that hospital get-up?”

Lena’s back snapped straight. “ _Ohhh_ , yes!”

Zenyatta gave a shallow shrug. “I don’t have anything else.”

A sharp clap rang out as Lúcio whipped his hands together. “Mmmhm. Should have known.”

“Yes _,_ yes, yes.”

“I know what we can do next, then, huh? Lena?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

“…What?”

“Make-over!” “Dress-up!”

“…Okay, we should have practiced that, I guess? But anyway. How ‘bout it? We’ve got some clothes—”

Genji snorted. Six eyes were immediately on him.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “Apologies. Only, it’s…You two are…short…”

“ _Wow_.” “Wow, Genji!” – “Jinx!” “Ji— _Shit_.” Lena’s cheeks puffed up as Lúcio laughed.

“Like, first of all, Genji, _rude_. Second, it’s not just _our_ clothes.”

“ _Mnn_.”

“Go on, Len—”

“There was a bunch of stuff in the old lost and found, from whenever they cleaned out lockers over the years. I found it when I was showing the newbies around. We’ve nearly got enough to stock a community theatre!”

“It’s true.”

“Genji!” The excitement was written clear on Zenyatta’s face.

So, just a few minutes later, they were piled into Lúcio’s room. He had a single, since the space where the second bed would normally be was instead taken up by a mixing board. Lena had an armful of clothing she had grabbed from her room—she dumped it on the floor (much cleaner than Genji would have expected, he thought with a small amount of guilt) and left for a second load. When she came back, she and Lúcio put their heads together.

“Alright, so, first of all, we gotta figure out some _logistics_. With your legs and stuff.”

“Just lay bottoms over your knees, maybe? That’d be easiest. And if you find a pair you _really_ want to try on, we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“I am fairly certain I will be able to dress and undress myself.”

“Okay, good. But, too…” Lúcio pursed his lips. “You, uh, don’t wear underwear, right? Usually?”

“Oh. No. Will that be a problem?”

“Ehh…Probably not? Here, you can borrow these.”

“…Soft.”

“Haha, only the best!”

Zenyatta was holding black fabric with a green waistband, examining the cut of it, and the various sewn lines.

“We’ll give you some privacy.”

Lena and Lúcio made for the hallway. Genji followed. Once the room door slid closed behind them, Lena offered a half-grin. “Uh…Genji? Love? Why’d _you_ leave?”

“…Why would I _not_ leave?”

“Well, what if he needs some help?”

“If he needs help, he will call one of us.”

“But I mean, you…uh. _You_ …”

“What about me?”

Lúcio crossed his arms where he was leaned against the wall. “I think what Lena’s trying to say is, like…if there’s someone who’s gonna help Zenyatta, it’s _you_. So, like, why would _you_ leave?”

“For his privacy!”

“S’pose that’s fair, if you haven’t seen _that_ before.”

“I do not understand.”

“ _Come on_ , Genj. You and Zenny? You’re…I mean, aren’t you? Oh, my God, _aren’t_ you? Genji, _please_. You can’t be serious.”

“ _What?_ ” His voice had a hard edge to it, an _old_ edge that he’d spent years dulling. Lúcio raised his eyebrows and took a quick sidestep down the hall.

Lena continued, her voice quiet, for once, “You’re not together?”

“… _No_.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, getting rather close. “Does _he_ know that? Because I might not be the _absolute cleverest_ person at this base, Genji Shimada, and I may not know _everything_ there is to know about omnics, but I know love when I see it, and that boy _loves_ you.” She poked him hard in the chest. “And don’t even get me started on _you_ , mister.” Another poke. “You stupid, lovesick idiot. Why are you wasting time?”

Genji’s teeth clicked shut behind his faceplate. The _looks_. Was it so obvious to everyone?

Was it obvious to Zenyatta? Zenyatta, who… “He doesn’t—”

The door behind them slid open.

It revealed a seated omnic monk, not just changed into a pair of Lúcio’s designer boxer-briefs, but in an entirely new outfit. A crisp white tunic with a split neckline, partially obscured by his mala, and a pair of _jeans_. The jeans were far too big for him, but they were _jeans_. Zenyatta had also managed to find a pair of fluffy knit socks, khaki-colored.

Lúcio stepped back into the fray, scratching at the back of his neck. “How did you…?”

“As I said, I am not incapable.” He smiled and flicked his hand, and two orbs flew over to strewn-around clothing, pinching a piece and lifting it up.

“That…is really cool.”

It had also made a terrible mess, but Lena simply gathered the clothes back into a more compact pile as she whooped about how _nice_ Zenyatta looked. “So, Genji didn’t teach you his old fashion sense, huh? Good thing!”

The previous conversation was over, apparently. Genji was fine with that.

“I found something for you, too, Genji! Look.” Zenyatta turned his chair around and reached out. His orbs fetched a t-shirt, while Zenyatta took and opened, revealing the design:

It was a silver and green robotic cat, pawing at a ball made of various wires.

Lena danced around in place. “Oh! I remember that one! It’s so old, it’s made of _real_ cotton. What are the chances, right? Like it was made for you! Ha!”

“Seriously. That’s wild!”

Zenyatta held it out, and what could Genji do but pull it on over his head?

Lúcio touched his chin. “Why don’t you normally wear clothes, anyway? Like I get that you have sort of a power-suit thing going on, but, like, it’s _not_ a power-suit, right?”

“…Not all of it.”

“You could be stylin’!”

“ _You_ haven’t seen any pictures of Genji as a teenager, have you? ‘Stylin’,’ _not_ the word I might use.”

Zenyatta’s gentle laugh filled the room. “I like those pictures…” He looked up, staring at Genji like Lena and Lúcio were nowhere to be found. “I like how colorful you were. And how easily you seemed to smile.”

“...Thank you.”

“What else do you want to try, love? Ooh, I bet you’d like wool. Here, this is my _favorite_ jumper…Oh, _wow!_ I didn’t think my arms were _that_ short.”

It felt like they went through every shirt, blouse, tunic, jumper, t-shirt, and uniform top in the pile. Zenyatta spent the longest amount of time in a suede button-up, which he admitted was hideous, but very comfortable. The jeans stayed on throughout, though they were occasionally covered up.

“Man, you’ve _gotta_ come back later. Some of this stuff would look so cool on metal-you!”

“Definitely! I can’t _wait_ to see you in this skirt! We can open the split up so you could still do that leg-crossy-floaty thing.”

Zenyatta smiled wide, having ended up in a plain black t-shirt. “All right.”

He talked Genji into pulling on some black track pants before they left, and Genji saw him swipe something from the mixing board on the way out the door—it was the apple again. He felt one of those _looks_ , burning through the back of his head as they walked out into the hallway, but he refused to turn around to meet it.

 

\--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

 

“I want to ask Winston about Miss Song’s stream. I still think he will say no, but I would hate to not _ask_ …”

“I can ask for you, Master.”

“Ah, that would be very convenient. Thank you, Genji. Make sure he knows that I am wearing new clothes, so I look _very_ different.”

Genji felt the tickle of a small smile and he let it happen, especially when Zenyatta’s free hand snuck its way into his own.

When he opened the channel, he made sure to speak aloud.

“Winston? Are you there?”

“Hm? Oh! Genji! Did something happen?”

“We have a question about…security clearance.”

“Angie isn’t going to let you leave the base—”

“Master Zenyatta would like to join Hana Song on her gaming stream, and would like to know if that is appropriate, assuming Miss Song introduces him using an alias.”

“Uh.”

“…”

“Can he hear me right now?”

“No. But he can hear _me_.”

“…So, he heard you just—? God damn it, Genji.”

“There are no secrets between us.”

The answering guffaw made his ears ring. “I’m not going to comment on that, but tell Zenyatta I don’t think the stream’s a good idea. I won’t go so far as to actually _forbid_ it, but I want Hana to increase her delay and let Athena monitor everything so she can trigger a blackout if needed. Actually, I’ll message Hana myself. So, tell Zenyatta it’s okay, but he _has_ to be secretive. No orbs. And he should try, maybe…using contractions?”

Genji nodded, Zenyatta looking up with bated breath.

“…He said you may. He is sending a message to Miss Song with more details.”

“Oh! Fantastic! I know her chat friends will be _so_ happy to meet you—”

“I will not join you.”

“Hm?”

“I will not join you. How could I? If I am there, they will know that you are _you_.”

“They would…Ah. I…I suppose they would…perhaps guess that, if you were present.” Zenyatta’s face fell. “Now I wish you might have met them earlier.”

“It is fine, Master. You should have fun.”

“I greatly prefer your presence to ‘having fun.’ That is why I only ever joined Miss Song while you were sleeping.”

“Master…”

“Miss Song will understand.” Zenyatta started down the hall toward the most sound-proofed room and used an orb to knock on the door—then, sheepishly, he sent them over to where Genji still stood. They began to float in a lazy, loose circle around him at waist level.

The door slid open, and Zenyatta disappeared inside.

Genji stood there for a few long seconds, hands crossed behind his back, legs spread in-line with his shoulders, neck straight.

Then he touched the brow of his visor and entered a series of commands to bring up a feed of Hana Song’s 45,000-viewer stream:

D. Va’s Daily Dose – grinding + opening grab bags

**meet my sweet buddy** (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm moving over 700 miles on the 31st of August, so expect a longer wait for the next chapter! Also, everyone should listen to Daft Punk's album Alive 2007--and note that the concert Lúcio mentions will be the subject of a different story, instead of being contained within this one.

**Author's Note:**

> Sparked by an idea I saw in the Genyatta tag on tumblr, but couldn't find later. The idea had to do with Zenyatta temporarily becoming human and experiencing different things in cute ways, because he is cute. The ideas I'm using to describe how he's become human are my own. If you think you were the one who posted this idea, or you know who did, please tell me! I know it listed eating and drinking, and sneezing...It was cute!


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